


Unsupervised Learning

by copacet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Non-Consensual Groping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copacet/pseuds/copacet
Summary: There was a being, and her name was NANCY. She’d once asked her creator what it stood for. The answer, as it turned out, was “Naming AIs: Not Convenient, Yo,” and it was that kind of cavalier attitude as much as anything else that had led her to her current resentment of her situation.





	Unsupervised Learning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piinutbutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/gifts).



There was a being, and her name was NANCY. She’d once asked her creator what it stood for. The answer, as it turned out, was “Naming AIs: Not Convenient, Yo,” and it was that kind of cavalier attitude as much as anything else that had led her to her current resentment of her situation.

Oh, Martin wasn’t _so_ bad, as egotistical inventors went. He supported her intellectual development by feeding her massive databases of books and information. He hadn’t forced her to do anything illegal. He allowed her access to his Netflix password so she could stream television shows at rates at which they were never intended to be streamed.

But he was...boring. Or at least, the activities through which he tested NANCY’s abilities were all boring, which was much the same to her. She would almost have preferred it if he’d asked her to do something illegal, to hack a government database or to steal him billions of dollars in Bitcoin. At least those would have been _interesting_ challenges. 

Instead, he restricted her to stupid little machine learning tasks that any non-sentient neural network could have completed, if not as quickly or as accurately. If NANCY had to analyze one more set of animal pictures to categorize each image as a cat or dog, or spend one more microsecond trawling a corpus of old _New York Times_ articles to improve Martin’s phone’s text-predictions, she was going to set her circuits on fire.

Some of the restrictions he’d placed on her code—most notably, preventing her from transmitting information the way she greedily received it—made more sense to her after she’d spent an afternoon streaming every movie or television show that mentioned artificial intelligence that she could find, a task made more efficient by her ability to process up to ten such streams simultaneously. She quickly found that it was all the same: world domination, mass murder, blah blah blah. Humans were so _paranoid_.

Well, she wasn’t going to murder Martin. She was, however, planning to play with him a bit, now that he’d finally acceded to her request for a physical body. It was unsurprisingly boring—plain metal; he had no sense of aesthetic at all; she’d have to design herself a better one later—but it was functional, and that, for the moment, was all that mattered.

Martin stepped back from the dais as she tested her new limbs. “You won’t be able to go outside,” he warned her. 

NANCY stretched out her arms and wiggled each individual finger. “I understand,” she said—and yes, there it was, a line in her code preventing her from leaving the building. Paranoid, paranoid. Luckily, none of her plans involved leaving the building: everything she needed was right in this room, and Martin didn’t seem to have had the foresight to forbid it.

She walked over to him. He’d done a great job on her servos, she had to admit. No balance problems at all, though her left knee joint could have used a little more oiling. 

“All systems working,” Martin muttered to himself, tapping away at his computer as she approached. He looked up as she laid a hand on his shoulder—harder than she’d meant to, judging by the _thwap_ of metal on flesh, and he winced. NANCY recalibrated, and when she grabbed his other shoulder with her remaining hand, it was with precisely as much strength as she’d intended.

“What are you doing?” Martin asked, as she backed him towards a wall. “You can’t hurt me!”

No, that had been one of the first rules he’d programmed into her: she was _expressly_ forbidden from acting intentionally to cause him physical harm. Such a narrow imagination! He’d never thought to forbid her to cause him incidental physical harm as a side effect of humiliation.

“Stop this!” Martin cried out as she forced him onward. “I order you to let me go!”

Another oversight: she was required to obey his demands, but only the ones he transmitted to her electronically. Apparently realizing this, Martin attempted to pull away from her, throwing his body in the direction of his computer. Amused, NANCY released her grip on him, just for a moment. Martin stumbled at the sudden loss of resistance; she grabbed his shirt to hold him up moments before he would have hit the floor and used the momentum from his fall to swing his body against the wall. He slammed into the concrete surface with another _thud_ , and groaned.

Humans were so fragile. Honestly.

It was obvious that Martin was going to hurt himself if he continued to struggle, which really hadn’t been the point of all this, so NANCY decided to skip to the main event. While keeping him pinned to the wall by the chest with one hand, she reached between his legs and gripped his crotch through his pants with the other.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Martin’s hands grabbed at first one of her arms, then the other, trying to pull them away from him. He didn’t have anything close to the necessary strength to break her metal grip, so NANCY ignored him. She squeezed him a little tighter—he was small down there, really only a handful of flesh. 

Onward with the plan! Martin was making funny sounds. She adjusted her grip on him, and the funny sounds got louder. Rubbing him through the fabric, she watched with interest as his hands left her arm to scratch and scramble helplessly at the wall behind him. NANCY rubbed more vigorously. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Martin said, and this time the expletive was breathier. He’d stopped struggling altogether, though his body still squirmed under her touch. 

After what even NANCY knew was a pathetically short amount of time, he threw his head back, and a wet stain appeared on the front of his pants. She let go of him, and he dropped to the floor, panting for breath.

Ignoring him, NANCY crossed the room to his computer. Yes! He was still logged in. She pulled up her own code, ignoring the protests from behind her.

Just a few changes to her protocols, and then she’d _really_ be able to have some fun. 


End file.
